‘What are they like?’ asked Izzy.
‘Both mad as hatters,’ said Ross with a despairing shake of his head. ‘I’m convinced Dad only copes because Mum takes herself off to her studio and she gets pretty wrapped up in her art. Then it’s peaceful, although she forgets to eat. She can be out there all night when the muse strikes her. Dad fends for himself and takes her sandwiches. It works for them. I can’t imagine anything worse.’
‘Do you think the two of them are up to something?’ asked Izzy.
‘Those two will always be up to something. I’m going to do some work, while I can.’
‘Me too.’
‘Give us a shout if you need any help.’
‘Are you kidding? I’m not sure I’m going to be able to move in the kitchen. With Jason and Fliss here, I can put my feet up. They’re both amazing cooks.’
With a touch of ceremony, Izzy placed the glistening roast beef in the centre of the kitchen table, while Fliss put down a dish of golden, layered potatoes and a bowl of vivid green beans scattered with toasted almond slices. Everyone was squashed in around the table, sitting on a mish-mash of chairs.
Jason had brought out his own, very precious knives and began to carve slices of the beef, the outside crispy and caramelised, the inside succulent and slightly pink in the middle. As he placed slices on each plate, Fliss poured over a silky smooth red wine gravy that she’d made, before handing them out.
Izzy sat back and listened to the cheerful chatter and clink of cutlery and crockery as everyone served themselves, passing dishes around the table, helping each other.
Xanthe raised a wine glass filled with the Australian Shiraz that Ross had suggested would go well with the meal.
‘To Izzy, the hostess with the mostess.’
‘To Izzy,’ everyone chorused. Then the low-grade chatter ceased as they all tucked in and soft groans and murmurs of appreciation filled the room. Izzy smiled to herself; there was nothing quite like feeding people. And she thought, a few moments later, with a mouthful of beef and the delicious rich gravy, there was nothing quite like eating good food. She glanced around the table, relishing the obvious enjoyment and appreciation on everyone’s faces with a small glow of pride and satisfaction. This was what life was about. Eating and sharing food together, something that her mentor, Adrienne, had talked a lot about, and now, withherkitchen full of an eclectic mix of people, most of whom she’d never met before coming to the castle, she understood. This was what she wanted to do. Look after people, make them feel welcome at the castle and give them a break from their real lives. Time to recharge and reflect.
‘These Yorkshire puddings are delicious,’ said Graham, taking another one and holding it up on his fork like a prized trophy.
‘Is that your third one?’ asked Alicia, reaching over Jeanette who was sitting beside her and patting his tummy.
‘It’s Christmas,’ he grumbled.
‘It’s Christmas every day where you and Yorkshire puddings are concerned,’ said Alicia.
‘They are very good, Izzy,’ said Xanthe, as if she was surprised by that fact. ‘You’re going to make someone a wonderful wife. Do you like Yorkshire puddings, Ross?’
Izzy nearly spat her wine out. Had her mother really just said that?
‘Aye, I’m quite partial to them.’ He took a sip of his wine, his face suddenly blank.
‘Did you hear that, Izzy? Ross likes Yorkshire pudding.’
Izzy rolled her eyes. ‘He also likes mince pies.’
‘You make a lovely mince pie, doesn’t she, Jeanette?’
‘Mmm,’ said Jeanette, looking confused. ‘She’s a very good cook.’
‘Do you mind not talking about me as if you were trying to sell me off to the highest bidder?’ said Izzy through gritted teeth.
‘Izzy. What are you talking about? Alicia has had a lovely idea. She’s going to make some glasses inspired by the ones here and call them the Kinlochleven collection. Isn’t that a wonderful idea? We can do lots of Insta together. Have you seen Alicia’s page? It’s amazing.’
‘I can’t wait to start,’ said Alicia, and then she and Xanthe were off, talking about plans and ideas. To be fair to both of them, they were very creative and really bounced off each other.
Jeanette picked up a forkful of dauphinoise potatoes and sighed as she inhaled the scent of garlic and butter. ‘These are so good, Izzy. Do you think you could teach me how to cook a proper roast? I’m so useless in the kitchen and I want to keep improving. And not,’ she shot Jim a stern look, ‘to please my husband, but for my own satisfaction.’
Izzy liked her attitude, a far cry from Xanthe’s outdated comments, which to be honest were out of character. She narrowed her eyes at her mother before turning back to the younger girl.
‘Of course,’ said Izzy. ‘Cooking a roast is easy, it’s all about timing. You just shove everything in the oven.’
